Midnight Meets
by Intricacy
Summary: He turned her sleep into nightmares every night, and she would stand for it no more, for tonight, she would turn revenge against him. She never accounted for something called jealousy. A turn on the TomGinny classic story. Rated for Language. Oneshot


**Midnight Meets  
**_He turned her sleep into nightmares every night, and she would stand for it no more, for tonight, she would turn revenge against him. She never accounted for something called jealousy. A turn on the TomGinny classic story._

Disclaimer: I don't own HP.

While I am stuck in writer's block… Something really quick. I probably could've written this way better, but oh well. I gotta study for a huge test tomorrow.

Enjoy! Please review and tell me what you think!

* * *

_He brought her here every night._

_Every single night._

_He'd bring her to this luxurious place, with wonderful mahogany furniture and a comfortable looking canopy bed that she never dared to near. The tall wardrobe with characters carved into the doors stood to the side, hiding wonderful clothes that he had prepared for her. He never told her this, but she knew. She knew that he hung beautiful dress robes inside himself, though pride never let her touch it, and pride never let him tell._

_And every night, suddenly, he'd enter, never using the door. And every night, he'd make her dreams a living nightmare._

_But not tonight._

_Tonight, she was going to make his time here hell._

* * *

Tom Riddle glanced hopefully at the mirror one more time, but he could find no flaws. He'd noticed that he had been summoning her earlier and earlier as the days passed, but he'd enter later and later. In the beginning, he had done it out of hate. Out of spite. Out of revenge. But slowly, revenge turned into amusement… amusement turned into hobby… and hobby turned into obsession. Damn it, he was _obsessed_ with fiery tempered Ginevra Weasley.

She was nothing like she was in first year.

No; her mind strengthened, using the collapse he'd caused her in her first year to further fortify herself. She was that type of person. She hated having flaws in herself, and whenever she identified them, she fought to fix them. He liked that about her. And, though he'd never admit it, he liked her temper, her sharp wit, her bold daring.

And lately, before he entered the room, his stomach would always clench. His heart would hammer in his chest, similar to the time he had been anticipating his first magic test in first year. His head would pound and get dizzy. In a way, he wanted to enter and get it over with. In a way, he wanted to enter and stay there forever. But mostly, he wanted nothing to do with Ginevra Weasley – though he'd fallen in too deep now to do anything about it.

He glanced, one final time, at the mirror. No flaws, still. No reason to procrastinate his entrance. With a dutiful heavy sigh, he entered the room. His eyes fell upon the vibrant red hair that belonged to a beautiful witch with slender curves. One slow step ahead. It was too late; he couldn't back out. Hide the hesitance. Mask the insecurity. Act confident.

Her chocolate eyes glistened in the dim candlelight, he noticed. Was she crying? His heart pounded louder and faster that he was barely conscious of his actions. Should he laugh? Remain indifferent? Should he put his arm around her and comfort her? Damn it, where was his charm when he needed it?

Slowly, he knelt beside her. "What's wrong?" he said softly.

She jumped slightly, only just noticing that he was here. Was he that unnoticeable? Was he so easy to be overlooked? His stomach clenched slightly. Quickly wiping her tears, she sniffed one final time and hurriedly tried to compose herself. She wasn't a bad actress…

…but she wasn't good enough.

"Tell me what's wrong," he continued in the same gentle voice.

She held her composure. She was determined.

"Tell me," he said.

And that was all it took. Tears released themselves again as she flung her arms around his neck. He stiffened at her touch, awkwardly wondering what to do. But slowly – _slowly_ – he relaxed, and put his arms around her. She sobbed into his shoulder, and he realized that this was what he wanted –

"Tom… you've always been great at listening to my troubles when I was eleven," she said, her voice clogged with tears. "I – I want it to go back to that. J – just this one night…"

"Anything you want, Ginevra," he whispered.

She pulled away, managing a strained smile. He, in turn, returned a strained smile, as her arms unlocked from around his neck and returned to her side. "Thank you," she said.

He nodded. "Now tell me what's wrong."

She was silent for a moment before responding. Hiccupping slightly, she said, "Well… my – my friend asked me to go to a dance at his workplace with him… and I said yes. But Harry – " She broke off, flustered and aggravated. She stood up, and, with nothing to do with her hands, started opening and closing the various empty drawers of the dresser that stood proudly beside the canopy. "Harry – he wasn't happy – but he never said anything – he _never said!_"

Tom watched her, his teeth gritting at the mention of Potter's name. He hated him. Despised him more than Potter himself would ever know. And not only because he'd foiled his domination over the Wizarding world, as he learned from Ginny. It was because he'd stolen the heart of the one person that had stolen his.

"And now – Harry's mad, and the dance is tomorrow, so I can't leave my friend… I mean, that's too cruel!" Ginny said, growing more anxious by the second. She tripped over her words as they tumbled out of her mouth. "But – you know already, Tom… I love Harry. I really do. I don't want to lose him over something like this… but I can't leave my friend… But he won't understand…"

Tom's fist clenched. _I love Harry. I really do…_

"We had such a promising relationship – well, nothing happened yet, but I hoped there would be – and he's always been so sweet, but now I'm confused… I still do like him, though. I don't know what's going on. Tom…"

_We had such a promising relationship… he's always been so sweet…_ His brows furrowed in anger and his eyes neared murderous. _I've been sweet to you, too, but you ignored me completely. So I had to try something else... Why Potter?_

"I don't know what to do… Help me. Please."

_Why Potter? He's taken everything away from me. Everything. My dreams, my hopes, my pride, my dignity… and now you. Damn it, why can't you see? He's not the right one for you!_

"Well," Tom said, his voice controlled, "you should go to the business party with your friend. You've already promised him; Potter should learn to act faster. Besides, it's nothing romantic… he should stop acting spoiled."

…_I am._

_Do me a favor, and don't go with Potter, and don't go to that damned party._

His voice hardened at the end, looking away. He couldn't bear to look at her innocent face. Tonight would be the last night he summoned her. No more; no more agony. No more stress…

She seemed to understand my meaning. A smile slowly made its way across her face. _Why am I looking at her?_ "I get it," she said. "It makes sense. Why should I agonize over Harry's immaturity? But – " Her face fell slightly. "I haven't got anything to wear. My dress robes were all gifts from Harry, and I can't wear those…"

He clenched his teeth somewhat. _Potter gave you dress robes. So did I. You just don't know about it. You love him. You hate me. Tell me, what did I do wrong?_

She began wandering around the room, flipping things over and open as she had been doing earlier. Was this a habit of hers that he never noticed before?

She was approaching the wardrobe. _Don't open it. Don't open it. Merlin, if you could give me a little help, just once, don't let her open that. She can't know, and above all, she can't _–

"Tom – thank you!" Her eyes were wide with surprise and delight as she immediately took the dress robes out. "Did you know about this beforehand? These are perfect!"

– _wear them to the celebration with someone other than me._

"My pleasure," he said stiffly, as he watched with narrowed eyes as she picked the dresses out and held them against her as she looked in the full-length mirror.

_You were meant to have those on the day that you agreed to be with me. You were supposed to have them and fall in love with me. Me. Not Potter. Not that git who's bringing you to the party. Put those down. Now, before I hurt you again._

But he couldn't bring himself to hurt her. He only wanted to kill the two gits who took the redheaded girl away from him.

That burning hate in his heart refused to settle.

"I like this white one… but oh, do you have anything emerald green in here?"

_No. Because they're the color of Potter's eyes, and I refuse to his colors reflected on something as beautiful as you._

"I'm afraid I don't," he said calmly as he approached from behind her.

She smiled slightly. "That's okay, I suppose. This white one will… suffice."

_Suffice? Suffice? That's it? I spent hours designing them (though I'll never tell you that I designed them myself to fit your grace)! And all they do is "suffice." I bet Potter's dresses aren't as beautiful or fit as well as mine._

"I'm sure there's something in there that will complete your idea," Tom said, gesturing to the numerous dresses that still were left hanging.

She barely spared them a glance. "Yes, I'm sure," she said distractedly, returning to the white dress, a frown on her face.

He was offended, to be sure. She hadn't even looked at the others, like they weren't worth her time. Because they weren't from Saint Potter. His heart clenched as well as his fist as he stared fixedly at her.

She removed her wand from her robe pocket and flicked it, turning the white robes to the emerald green she wanted. His eyes grew blank with a hard look to them.

_Emerald green. Emerald green. No. You cannot taint my work with the color of Potter's mocking eyes – _

To him, the robe _did_ reflect Potter, laughing at him, mocking him that he had beaten Riddle once again. But no; now, to Ginny Weasley, the robe was "perfect."

Satisfied with the now emerald robe, she let the other dress robes that she'd taken out fall to the floor. She didn't care for those, and it stung. With a careless wave of Tom's own wand, the dress robes were put back in the wardrobe. He couldn't let her know that he cared.

He could only imagine how much that git would stare after her when she wore the robes he designed, and how he'd never see her in it. There was no room for sorrow; only for rage.

And it erupted within him. He grabbed her wrist and pushed her to the wall, a dangerous, murderous glint in his eye that made Ginny gasp softly in fear. Slowly, he pressed his lips against hers, vicious and passionate at first – but then slowed to a gentleness, as if asking for her forgiveness. Her body was left limp in his arms, and she didn't respond; she was in far too much shock. Then, suddenly, her hands lifted... and pushed his body away from her.

Horror was sketched across her face. "What did you – "

_She hates me. She hates me. She'll never, never love me…_ Quickly, Tom Riddle shook his head. "Nothing," he said, and immediately departed.

It would be the last time he'd ever see Ginny Weasley, for he'd never steal her into this accursed chamber again.

_She hates me._

And that was enough.

_

* * *

_

_Watching the empty room, she paused and turned toward the door._

_It was unlocked._

_Turning the doorknob, she cast one last glance at the room, and something caught her eye. A floorboard was slightly tilted upward. Bending down, she pulled it up and looked underneath; a velvet box. Removing it, she opened the lid, revealing a beautiful, fragile ring with a small diamond in the center. Elegant, delicate. It would have fit her perfectly._

_But she never tried it on. Removing the ring, she turned it this way and that to look at it. He meant to propose to her._

_He loved her._

_She let the ring fall through her fingers and onto the floor. Standing, she opened the door and stepped through, escaping the limits of Tom Riddle's mind._

_Closing the door behind her, she locked it soundly with her wand… fastening away all the memories and experiences of pure dread that she'd experienced in there._

_She stepped and faded away, back into her own mind, back into her own dreams of sleep. Her mission was successful; he would never summon her again._

_She was safe._

_For even if he loved her, the feelings were not mutual._

_And only in the most remote corner of her heart, did she feel a little bit of pity… But now she was free._

_And the only thing she could express was relief._


End file.
